"Seems to me," said Dorothy, "it's a great thing to be a King."
"Were you ever a King?" inquired the monarch.
"No," she answered, laughing.
"Then you know nothing about it," he said. "I haven't inquired who
you are, but it doesn't matter. While we're at luncheon, I'll tell
you all my troubles. They're a great deal more interesting than
anything you can say about yourself."
"Perhaps they are, to you," replied Dorothy.
"Luncheon is served!" cried Blinkem, throwing open the door, and in
came a dozen rabbits in livery, all bearing trays which they placed
upon the table, where they arranged the dishes in an orderly manner.
"Now clear out--all of you!" exclaimed the King. "Bristle, you may
wait outside, in case I want you."
When they had gone and the King was alone with Dorothy he came down
from his throne, tossed his crown into a corner and kicked his ermine
robe under the table.
"Sit down," he said, "and try to be happy. It's useless for me to
try, because I'm always wretched and miserable. But I'm hungry,
and I hope you are."
"I am," said Dorothy. "I've only eaten a wheelbarrow and a piano
to-day--oh, yes! and a slice of bread and butter that used to be
a door-mat."
"That sounds like a square meal," remarked the King, seating himself
opposite her; "but perhaps it wasn't a square piano. Eh?"
Dorothy laughed.
"You don't seem so very unhappy now," she said.
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